


So Needless to Say

by Pennstram



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, Depression, Episode Aftermath, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennstram/pseuds/Pennstram
Summary: ”I'm odds and endsBut I'll be stumbling awaySlowly learning that life is okay”Eliot deals with the emotional fallout of losing Quentin
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	So Needless to Say

It hurt. Everything, hurt. His stomach where the sutures were still tender. His head from the medicine and alcohol. His hands where he’d punched the wall. His eyes from the tears that just wouldn’t stop. His heart as it crashed and fell to the ground, shattering into millions of unfixable pieces around him. His bloody fist smashed another mirror on his wall.

He wished he couldn’t feel. As the alcohol burned his throat and he slammed the empty bottle against the wall, he wished that monster was still there. So it would just, stop. So he couldn’t feel the raw edges where his heart should be. So he couldn’t feel the cold aching need. Pictures smashed on the floor, wine glasses and martini glasses and small trinkets scattered across the floor. Shards reflecting his broken face, cries of agony ringing through him. 

Glasses and bottles and books went flying across the room as he flipped the side table. His arms stung where the glass sliced his skin but it didn’t help. It would never overpower the agony building up inside him. His throat was hoarse and his vision blurred but he couldn’t remember crying. He couldn’t remember screaming until his lungs gave out. He couldn’t remember, but he must have. 

He must have. 

With an unsteady hand he grabbed another bottle of whiskey that hadn’t met its fate on the floor and downed gulp after gulp of burning liquid. It didn’t help. It would never help. He could feel the burn but it did nothing to numb the pain. The floor was cold under his crumpled body as fresh tears poured from his stinging eyes. Why didn’t it help. Why would the pain not stop. He needed it to just— stop. 

Another terrible sob ripped from his lips as he slumped back against the bed. The bottle half empty laying haphazardly in his limp hand. His head fell back against the overturned mattress, vision swimming and blurring and stinging. 

He was vaguely aware of someone screaming his name. Someone grabbing him and holding him tightly to her chest. It wasn’t right though. The body too soft, too small. The grip all wrong and fresh sobs racked his sore body. He screamed out his pain, his empty hand grabbing her arm. Nails digging in and he knew they were leaving marks but he just couldn’t stop. 

It all hurt. He needed it all to stop. The shaking bottle found his quivering lips again and he forced the burn down around his sobs. It had to stop. He didn’t want to feel this anymore. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore. 

He couldn’t do this alone. The bottle crashed against the wall and the gentle arms around him tightened as the last of the whiskey stained the wall and floor around them. The jagged pain in his heart gripped him and the cold seeped into his limbs. 

He cried. He had it all. He had a reason. He had so, much, love. He cried, and cried and couldn’t stop. Even as soothing words pulled him back, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not her voice, the memory, not the cuts on his hands and arms, the drugs or alcohol. It will never be enough to forget. To make the raw pain go away. 

Why couldn’t he make it stop. 

He needed it to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d since it was only supposed to be a quick emotion writing exercise


End file.
